


Some Turn To Dust Or To Gold

by lizzyisafangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, F/M, Magic, Rebels, probably a million fantasy cliches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-11-03 19:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10973886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzyisafangirl/pseuds/lizzyisafangirl
Summary: Eighteen years ago, the Dark One took over the kingdom of Winchester, murdering the King and Queen. But nobody ever knew what happened to the two young Princes. Now, two farm boys are about to discover the truth about their heritage, and embark on a journey to save their kingdom and fulfil their destinies.





	1. Prologue - 18 years ago

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a hell of a long time coming. I started writing it years and years ago, I think when I was at the peak of my Supernatural obsession, and kept doing a bit then abandoning it for months, then coming back to it. I accidentally lost everything I'd written at least once, but eventually I finished it. Then took at least another year and a half to edit the bloody thing, because I am useless.  
> Anyway, this is the longest thing that I have ever written, and will possibly ever write. It's also the first thing I've posted in a very long time, and I'm kind of proud of it, so I hope that somebody enjoys it! The whole thing is written, so I'm going to try and upload a chapter every couple of days, and like I said, I hope you enjoy it!

The Queen woke up suddenly. Something had broken through the wards around the castle, she could feel it. Her husband stirred beside her, but rolled over and went back to sleep. She pulled on her invisibility cloak and slid a knife from beneath her pillow, gripping it tightly as she crept out of the room.  
  
It was probably nothing, but it didn't hurt to check and she couldn't stop her mind from racing as she hurried unseen along the winding corridors. She had thought that her wards were impenetrable to dark magic, but maybe it was another false alarm. It was known to happen occasionally. She just prayed that it wasn't him.  
  
She pulled the cloak more tightly around herself as she reached her destination, the nursery of her two young sons. The door was ajar, which made her even more uneasy as she slipped inside. She was not prepared for the sight that met her eyes. The nursery maid lay on the floor in a pool of blood, her throat slit and eyes unseeing, as the boys slept on unaware. The Queen gasped in horror as a hooded figure emerged from the shadows around the cradle of the youngest Prince.   
  
"Ah, Mary," the figure said, yellow eyes glinting in the darkness. "How lovely to see you. Or at least it would be if I could actually see you. I know you're there."  
  
Queen Mary cursed inwardly, as all her fears were realised. "Azazel," she hissed, lowering the hood of the invisibility cloak. Azazel was a sorcerer and had been a trusted member of the court many years ago. He had known important royal secrets and it was one of these that had caused him to turn rogue, using dark magic in a bid to take over the city of Lawrence.   
  
After his failed coup, he was banished to the mountains at the northern border, and nobody expected to hear from him again. However in recent years, whispers of his activities had reached the royal court, and the threat of an attack began to seem more and more likely.  
  
"What do you want?" she whispered, not even trying to hide the loathing in her voice.  
  
"The same thing I wanted before. Only now I know how to get it," he replied, with a shark-like grin.   
  
"That's impossible. How?!" asked Mary. She knew that it was probably something awful, but she couldn't help being curious.   
  
"Unfortunately, my dear, you're not going to live long enough to find out."  
  
Mary took a step back. "Wait," she said, confused. "If that's what you want, why are you here? Why aren't you down in the vaults? You know that's where they're kept."  
  
"Oh, I was on my way there, but I thought I'd stop by and see the kids since I was passing. I've heard what's being said about them, and little Sammy here is just so adorable." He gestured with a scarred hand to the baby in the crib beside him, and Mary looked down at her son, her expression turning to horror once again. The sleeping baby's bare skin had been covered in a series of archaic symbols, painted in what appeared to blood.   
  
"What the hell have you done?" She begged.  
  
"Just a little something," Azazel continued to grin. "All part of the plan...You didn't let me finish, but I'll get back to it. I worked out what was missing, you see."  
  
Mary paled. She didn't understand what he meant, but it couldn't be good. It appeared to be blood magic, one of the most twisted powers in existence. She cursed inwardly, as Sam was still too young to have the extensive protective magic placed on him, that his older brother Dean already had. To have him tainted by this darkness was terrible, but at least Azazel hadn't finished whatever it was he'd been doing, and he never would if she had anything to with it. She could only hope that the effects wouldn't be too serious.   
  
"I'm sorry you had to see this, Mary," he continued. "But, I just can't let you live now."  
  
Mary pressed a hidden switch in the wall behind her, hopefully putting into action the escape plan that she had set up for her boys when they had been born, just in case of a siege or invasion. Her husband John had laughed at her paranoia, but now she was glad of it. Drawing her knife, she stood to face her opponent.   
  
"I should call the guards," she hissed. "Or the King."  
  
"I'll only kill them too," said Azazel dismissively.   
  
Mary froze. She didn't doubt that he would kill them all, but she couldn't allow that to happen. "Then I will destroy you myself."  
  
"Good luck with that."  
  
He summoned a ball of yellow fire, the same sickly colour as his eyes, into each hand and took aim at her.  
  
She raised the hood of her invisibility cloak once more, disappearing from sight, and began to run, trying to draw her enemy away from her children. The baby began to cry and she heard Dean stirring too. It broke her heart that she couldn't go back to comfort them as she ran through corridor after corridor, seeing nobody living, only the occasional guard, lying in a heap with their throat slit.  
  
She stopped running when she reached the courtyard, allowing herself to be seen and summoning purple flames of her own. She turned to face her old enemy and they circled each other for a few moments, before launching into a series of attacks, sending lights into the sky, and making enough noise to wake the city below.  
  
Eventually King John ran into the courtyard wielding his sword, ready to join the fight. But he never got the chance, as with a flick of his wrist, Azazel sent him soaring into the air and slammed him against the wall. The King's body hit the ground with a sickening crunch, and he didn't move again. The Queen choked back a sob before turning back to face her enemy with renewed fire in her eyes.  
  
After a while, both opponents began to tire. Mary gained the upper hand and reached for her knife, but it wasn't there. She must have dropped when she was running from the nursery.   
  
"Looking for this?" sneered Azazel, twirling the blade between his fingers, before plunging it into the Queen's chest. The pain was worse than anything she'd ever experienced. Mary knew that she was dying but she refused to give up quite yet. Somehow she managed to summon the strength to pull herself along the ground, nearer to the archway that concealed the entrance to the vaults. Using the very last of her energy she created an enchantment stronger than any she had cast before. It ensured that only someone of the royal bloodline could enter the vault and access the riches and secrets within. As she lay back, she noticed a purple candle burning in the nursery window, and allowed herself a small smile. Her boys were safe.  
  
"You'll never get them now," she breathed, the world blurring around her. "They will destroy you... and... avenge us..." At least she'd be with John again soon. That was her last thought as she succumbed to the darkness.  
  
 Azazel realised what the Queen had done to the vault. That complicated his plans slightly. He made his way back to the nursery, only to find the beds empty, their occupants long gone. He let out a roar of rage, loud enough to silence the rising clamour from the city. That complicated his plans a lot more. But he had other plans, and he was willing to be very patient. One way or another, he would find the missing Princes.  
  
Nobody noticed a woman with a baby and another small boy emerge from a solid stone wall in the heart of the city, and make their way through the streets. The citizens of Lawrence were much too intrigued by the uproar at the castle to notice the woman and children sneak out of the city gates, and disappear into the night.

  



	2. Chapter 1

"Rise and Shine Sammy!"  
  
Dean was far too cheerful for that time of the morning, thought Sam as he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Dean was too quick however, and ripped off the blankets leaving his brother shivering and scowling.  
  
"Jerk!" shouted Sam at his brothers retreating back.  
  
"Bitch!" Dean called back affectionately.  
  
A few minutes later Sam made his way downstairs, now fully dressed. He entered the large kitchen of the cottage and began making himself some breakfast while Dean watched, already stuffing his own face. There was a note from Missouri on the large kitchen table saying that she had gone out to gather herbs and wouldn't be back until the evening. The note was accompanied by an list of jobs that she expected the boys to get done around the farm before she returned.  
  
Sam sighed as he gazed at the list. It wasn't that he hated farm work, it was just dull, and there was so much more out there. It was a big world and he'd read all about it, but he'd never travelled further than the nearest village in his life. To be fair, travel wasn't exactly easy. The roads were full of soldiers and bandits, and that was just within the kingdom's borders, which had been closed to the rest of the world for a long time. So, they were stuck on the family farm forever. It wasn't technically the family farm as Missouri wasn't the boys' real mother although she was as good as, having singlehandedly raised Sam and Dean on her farm. Sam often asked her about their birth parents but he was always dismissed or she would change the subject, telling him that he would find out when he was old enough, but he was eighteen years old. When would he old enough to know the truth? He talked about it with Dean, but he didn't seem to be as bothered about finding out, saying that he was perfectly happy with things the way they were, perfectly content to stay put.  
  
The boys worked hard all morning, as they had done most days since they were old enough to be of use. They fed the few animals that they had and mucked out the barn, as well as fixing up various things around the farm and the house. There would be a lot more work to in a few weeks time when the harvest would be ready, but in the meantime they could enjoy having an easy day. Dean smiled as he thought about their childhood on the farm; he recalled winters spent playing in the snow and sitting around the roaring fire in the kitchen, listening to Missouri tell them stories about Kings, Queens, Sorcerers, Knights and Dragons. Sammy's favourites had always been the dragons. He also remembered endless summer days of playing in the fields and chasing each other through the woods, sword-fighting with sticks.

It wasn't exactly an easy life, but Dean enjoyed it. It was all he'd ever known; the farm was his home and it was safe there. He knew Sam wanted to leave, to see the world and make something of himself, but it was Dean's job to take care if his little brother and he wasn't ready to let him go. Especially not with the kingdom of Winchester being the way that it was.

The kingdom was ruled the Dark One, a powerful but cruel sorcerer. There were hundreds of different rumours circulating about him, but almost all of them shared several details; yellow eyes, and a terrifying ability to control those who served him, people easily recognisable by their completely black, empty eyes. Winchester had been a great kingdom once, but over the years it had slowly been falling into ruin. High taxes and harsh winters left many people struggling to survive and most of the kingdom's people lived in fear, as anyone who displeased or acted against the Dark One was likely never seen again. The only exception was the infamous rebel army, best known for their raids, who had managed to evade capture so far.  
  
The brothers had finished their day's work by early afternoon, so Sam suggested a trip into the nearby village. It was about half an hour's ride each way, but it was something to do, and they were confident that they would be home before Missouri returned. They made their way into the barn to saddle their horses and set off, laughing and joking as they rode through the late summer afternoon.  
  
The village was fairly small, but there were several shops and it was a market day, so the square had been filled with stalls. The brothers wandered round the stalls, looking at things they couldn't afford, as well as picking up a few essential items that they could. After a while, Sam disappeared into the bookshop, leaving Dean outside with the horses. As he waited, he managed to overhear an interesting, although slightly worrying conversation.   
  
Apparently, a group of soldiers were working their way west from Lawrence. There was nothing unusual about that; patrols of black-eyed soldiers were common, something about them keeping the peace. However, this particular group were searching for something and were ransacking villages and outposts along the way. There was no way of knowing whether this rumour was even true, but if it was, what were they searching for and could they be next? It unsettled Dean, so when Sam finally emerged from the bookshop, he quickly said that he was ready to go home, and they set off.  
  
It was getting dark when Missouri returned to the cottage. Sam and Dean looked up from whatever they were doing as soon as the door opened. They could tell that something was very wrong as she sank into her chair by the fire, shaking and looking extremely pale.   
  
"Fetch me some tea, child!" she snapped at Dean. "And get your feet off my table before I whack you with a spoon!"  
  
Dean obliged, not daring to disobey Missouri in one of her moods.   
  
"What's wrong?" asked Sam who had been sitting in a corner, his nose in one of his new books. It was something about dragons again, Dean noticed.  
  
"I've been betrayed," she whispered to herself in disbelief.   
  
"What?" asked Dean in confusion.  
  
Missouri sighed. "You boys had better take a seat," she said. "I have a lot to tell you and not a lot of time. Sam, you have been pestering me about your parents for a long time, and it's time for you both to know the truth."  
  
Sam and Dean eagerly pulled their chairs up to the fire, and listened with rapt attention to what Missouri had to say.  
  
"You remember the stories I used to tell you about the old days?"  
  
The boys nodded. Most people didn't dare to talk about the days before the Dark One came to power, but Missouri had never shown that kind of fear, and in amongst the fairytales she'd told Sam and Dean, she told them about King John and Queen Mary, and the court of Winchester. She'd also told them the legend of the lost Princes. People believed that the King and Queen's two sons had survived, and that one day they would return and reclaim the throne. Dean didn't believe a word of it.  
  
"It was almost exactly eighteen years ago," Missouri said. "The night the kingdom fell. The Dark One's forces stormed the castle and murdered the King and Queen. The Queen put up a good fight, but in the end it wasn't good enough."  
  
"What about the two Princes?" asked Sam.

"You don't seriously believe in that, do you?" asked Dean. "Because if you ask me..."  
  
"Nobody did," interrupted Missouri. "And, I was just getting to that. You see, the Dark One and all of his soldiers never found the Princes because of a plan the Queen had made in case such a thing were to happen. Her own lady in waiting smuggled the two little boys out of the castle through a secret passage and hid them far away, raising them as if they were her own."  
  
"Why are you telling us this now, Missouri?" asked Dean. "We know the story. I thought you had important things to say to us."  
  
"How old would the Princes be now?" asked Sam.

"Seriously?! Why does that even matter? It's not like they're actually sti-"

"Missouri," Sam cut his brother off. "What were the Princes' names? And the name of the woman who saved them?"  
  
"Well," said Missouri, cracking a smile. "In answer to your first question, the Princes would be twenty two and eighteen by now. The woman went by the name of Missouri Mosley. And Prince Dean and Prince Sam of the kingdom of Winchester are sitting right before me."  
  
Dean stared at her in disbelief. That couldn't be right. Missouri was suggesting that he and his brother were the kingdom's long lost Princes, but that was ridiculous. It was impossible, wasn't it? But, something felt right inside him, some part of him that knew that Missouri was telling the truth. Still, he would have been four years old when the King and Queen were killed, so if it were true, wouldn't he have some memory of them? Of something?  
  
"Why don't I remember?" Asked Dean. "If it's true, I should remember something."  
  
Missouri's face fell. "Dean honey, I'm sorry. It was to protect you. Those memories are gone. I took you to see an old friend, when we first escaped, and he took your memories of who you and your parents really were. It was too dangerous for you to know the truth."  
  
"Well, can I get them back?!"

 "I don't know," whispered Missouri, and Dean slammed his fist down on the table in frustration.  
  
"Why would you tell us this now?" Asked Sam, tactfully trying to change the subject. "I mean, it's been eighteen years."  
  
"I thought we were safe. The farm is warded against Dark magic and your mother had placed extensive protective spells on you both when you were born. I was just waiting until the time was right to tell you. But now, I have been betrayed. Few people know who I really am and only one person knew where I was hiding you, a man by the name of Frank Devereux, the most paranoid person I have ever met. I assumed that the secret would be safe with him, but apparently I was wrong. I went to visit him today and he was dead. The Dark One's forces had been to his cottage, and so he must know that you are alive and that you're here. You are going to have to run. He will not rest until he finds you, and he's been looking for a long time."

"The soldiers that I heard about in the village..." gasped Dean.  
  
"But why?" asked Sam. "What can we possibly do to him? We're hardly a threat. I mean, we've spent our whole lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere. We don't know how to fight!"  
  
"Yes, but the Dark One doesn't know that. I believe that he believes you have ties to the rebel forces. Which is why you need to go to them, and be sure to tell them that I sent you. They will shelter you and teach you to fight."  
  
"And why do we need to know how to fight. What are we expected to do?" demanded Dean.  
  
"You're the last hope of many people in the kingdom. They still believe that one day the lost Princes will return to defeat the Dark One and reclaim the throne."  
  
"Oh no," said Dean. "No, no, no. Who says I want any part in that? I don't want to rule a kingdom, I don't want a throne!"  
  
"It's your birthright, and at the minute it doesn't matter whether you want it or not," snapped Missouri. "You're still going to have to run, unless you want to die at the hands of a merciless soldier. Now the two of you go and grab some things as fast as you can."  
  
Without saying a word to each other, Sam and Dean sprinted up to their room and each packed a small rucksack with several sets of clean clothes and a sleeping mat and blankets. Dean stuck his hunting knife into his belt and Sam slung his bow and arrows across his back. They made their way back downstairs where Missouri was laying out enough provisions to last several days.  
  
As they pulled on their boots and travelling cloaks, Missouri struggled to pull up a floorboard near the fire and pulled out an oddly shaped bundle. She beckoned for the boys to come over.  
  
"These belonged to your parents," she said, unwrapping the bundle. "For you Dean, your father's sword and shield." She handed him a leather scabbard from which he drew a gleaming sword, with jewels set into the hilt, and a round shield bearing the emblem of a five-pointed star surrounded by a ring of flames.  
  
"The Winchester family crest," stated Missouri. Dean gazed at the gifts in wonder, struggling to believe that they really now belonged to him. He had never even seen such fine weapons before. "And they are most definitely not toys." Missouri gave Dean a look, then beckoned Sam closer. "These were your mother's," she told him gesturing at the remaining items on the table. There were two ornate-looking knives and an old cloak that was made a strange material that Sam had never seen before. He had to admit that he felt a little disappointed with his gifts compared to Dean's sword.   
  
"Don't you look like that," snapped Missouri, noticing Sam's disappointment. "That right there is an invisibility cloak. Do you have any idea how rare they are? Now, I don't know if you realise, but your mother was somewhat talented at sorcery. I always wondered if either of you would inherit her gifts, but I guess not."  
  
"What sort of thing do you mean?" asked Sam, choosing his words carefully.  
  
"All sorts of things," Missouri smiled, remembering better days. "She was truly something to see. I remember she had a particular affinity for fire..."  
  
"Like this?" asked Sam, holding out his hand which had purple flames dancing across the fingertips. He tried for a small smile, which quickly disappeared when Dean's sword clattered to the ground accompanied by a horrified expression. Before he could say anything to his brother, Missouri continued speaking to him.  
  
"Is there anything else you can do besides summon fire, child?" she asked. Her eyes were wide and she was grinning.  
  
"Well, sometimes I have visions of the future," replied Sam. Dean's jaw dropped even further. "It started as dreams that came true, but now they come sometimes when I'm awake. It's never very clear though, and it hurts like hell."  
  
Missouri nodded. "It would have been nice to get you some proper training in sorcery," she said wistfully. "Of course the Dark One eliminated pretty much all the other sorcerers in the kingdom a long time ago."  
  
"Hey Missouri," Sam interrupted her musings. "Why did the Dark One kill our parents anyway?"  
  
"Well, there was something in the castle that he desperately wanted. What do you boys think about dragons? Believe in them?"  
  
"Yes," breathed Sam, as Dean firmly said "No." The two brothers just stared at each other disbelievingly.  
  
"Well, one of you is right," continued Missouri. "And Dean, it ain't you. Bobby Singer at the rebel camp knows more about it than I do so you'll have to ask him when you see him."  
  
Sam gave a smug grin, which quickly slid from his face as he silently sank to the floor, clutching his head in his hands. Dean was at his brother's side in an instant.  
  
"What's happening?" he asked Missouri.  
  
"He's having a vision," she replied. "There's nothing you can do except wait for it to pass."  
  
After a minute Sam sat bolt upright, looking extremely pale and a trickle of blood dripped steadily from his nose. "They're coming," was all he said.  
  
"How long do we have?" asked Missouri.  
  
"I don't know...Maybe ten minutes?"  
  
"Right then, you boys need to get going. Now!" She began herding them towards the door, while making sure they had everything. "You should find the rebels on the outskirts of the Great Forest. It's about a week's ride to the south of here. You should have a map in with your things. Good luck to the pair of you!"  
  
"Wait," said Dean, stopping in his tracks. "Aren't you coming with us?"  
  
"No child, an old woman like me would only slow you down, and you need to make it to the rebel camp as soon as possible, before they can find you. I'll try to hold them off here."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Just go! Don't you worry about me, I promise that I'll be seeing you boys again someday."  
  
She shut the door behind them, after forcing them out of it, and Sam and Dean looked at each other helplessly. They began to make their way to the barn to get their horses, when they heard the faint sound of heavy footsteps on the road. They broke into a run, saddling the horses faster than they ever had in their lives, before leading them across the fields to the shelter of the nearby woods. Just before it was out of sight, the brothers turned to glimpse their home for one final time. They were horrified to see smoke and flames rising into the sky, as the farm was destroyed by the Dark One's soldiers. They couldn't stay and risk capture, so with heavy hearts they turned and disappeared into the night.  



	3. Chapter 2

The journey south proceeded steadily on horseback, although it took longer than they originally anticipated, as they had to keep making detours in order to avoid the increasing patrols of soldiers. At least the increase in soldiers seemed to be keeping any bandits away. In order to supplement the provisions that Missouri had given them they gathered whatever plants they could find and hunted for rabbits and squirrels where they could, but as the days passed they were beginning to run out of food, and the boys didn't dare to venture into any towns or villages for fear of being captured. They travelled on in near silence, each of the brothers wrapped up in his own thoughts, trying to comprehend what had happened to them, and what lay ahead.  
  
Sam didn't quite know what to feel. He couldn't believe that his life had been turned so completely upside down in such a short space of time. His home was gone, as was Missouri. It hurt, and it was incredibly sad, but there was a strange spark of excitement too. He felt guilty about it, but he couldn't help himself. He and Dean were completely alone in the world, yet the possibility of being on an epic quest made things seem slightly better. He consoled himself with the thought that he was finally away from the farm and getting to see some of the world; he only wished that the circumstances in which they'd left could have been better. He tried to focus on the positives; it was exactly like one of his books, at least that's what he kept telling himself to keep his fears and insecurities at bay. He hadn't known how his brother would react to his magic which was why he'd kept it hidden. He couldn't get Dean's horrified expression out of his head, and he couldn't bear to have his brother look at him like that again, even though he was desperate to try and explain.  
  
Dean was outwardly much more worried about their situation. He didn't understand how his brother could be so accepting of the fact that they now had some great destiny to fulfil. He was just a farm boy; he didn't know how to fight, let alone lead people or rule a kingdom, and he didn't know how the rebel forces would react to the two of them showing up on their doorstep claiming to be the lost Princes. They had lost everything; it hurt and he was angry. Why did it have to be them? He couldn't help but blame himself for their misfortune, even though he knew that there was nothing he could have done, and that only made it hurt even more. They had lost their home and their only other family; all that they had was the clothes on their backs, a couple of weapons that they weren't overly skilled at using, and their horses. At least they still had their horses.  
  
Dean allowed himself to slip into a memory of a day seven years earlier. Missouri had taken the boys, then aged fifteen and eleven, to the market and told them to pick out anything they wanted. That was when Dean saw her, a beautiful black mare, who he took home the same day. She was called Impala, and they had a special bond. He was glad that he still his baby, if nothing else. He remembered how, that same day, Sam had also picked out a horse, wanting to be just like his big brother. Stanford was an enormous horse compared to the tiny eleven year-old Sam, but that was no longer an issue, as a recent growth spurt had put Sam several inches above Dean, much to his delight and Dean's annoyance.  
  
Thinking about his brother sharply brought Dean back to his biggest worry: Sam's newfound powers. Having grown up with the kingdom the way it was, it was only natural that he was a little suspicious. It was practically ingrained into him that sorcerers were evil, and that all magic was a dark and dangerous thing. Everyone he'd ever met was instantly distrustful of anything they didn't understand, and they lived in fear of the Dark One. Missouri was much more accepting of these things than most, but even she was wary, and now she was gone. And now Sammy had magic too, and that turned everything on its head. He couldn't understand why his brother would keep a secret like that, except that when he thought about it, maybe he could.

He fiddled absent-mindedly with the cord that hung around his neck. That was another happy memory. For his twelfth birthday Sam had given him an amulet. It was a funny looking thing; a little bronze horned face, but Sam had picked it out himself, and Dean loved it. He'd barely ever taken it off these past ten years. He and Sam were close, and he could feel the whole magic thing threatening to pull them apart. So he decided that he wouldn't let it. He couldn't.  
  
"How long has it been happening?"Dean finally asked, breaking the heavy silence that had been sitting between the brothers since they set out.  
Sam looked over in surprise, as Dean had said more to Impala over the past week than he had to his brother. "You mean...?"  
  
"You know what I mean. How long have you been able to, you know..."  
  
"A couple of months." Sam looked away, as Dean's eyes widened. "It started just after my birthday."  
  
"And you didn't think to tell me?!"   
  
"I wanted to." Sam spoke very quietly, choosing his words very carefully. "I just wanted to be able to control it better, so that you wouldn't freak out as much."  
  
"Well Sammy, I'm a little freaked out!"  
  
"I know. Hell, I was too the first time it happened. I didn't know what was happening to me, and I nearly burned down the barn! And collapsing after seeing a glimpse of the future is hardly what I'd call fun. I know we were raised to believe that magic is dark and evil, but it can't all be like that. Because that would mean that I am dark and evil too, and I don't want to be. What happens if I lose control Dean? I haven't yet, but there have been a few close calls. I can feel it getting stronger too. What happens if I turn into something else, something I'm not, and people get hurt?! Honestly, I'm terrified, so I'm sorry if you're a little freaked out!"  
  
Sam paused for breath as Dean's mouth hung slightly open in surprise. It was rare for his brother spill his emotions like that, and he'd had no idea that he felt that way about things. He had seemed completely fine with their whole situation, but evidently that wasn't the case.  
  
"That's not going to happen, Sammy," said Dean, putting a hand on his not-so-little brother's shoulder. "You're not a bad person."  
  
"How can you be so sure?"  
  
"Because I trust you. And as long as I'm around, I won't let anything bad happen to you."  
  
The brothers shared a small smile, and rode on, feeling much lighter and happier, any silences now companionable rather than awkward. They continued for several more days, finding sheltered woods, empty barns or abandoned houses to spend the night in. The time seemed to pass much quicker now that Sam and Dean were speaking to each other again, and they managed to come up a system of using the invisibility cloak to sneak into the villages they had been avoiding, in order to steal food. It wasn't particularly honourable, but they didn't really have much choice.  
  
One afternoon, Sam decided to voice a question that had been on his mind since they'd left the farm. "Hey Dean," he started. "What do you think Missouri meant when she asked us about the dragons?"  
  
"Well Sam," his brother replied. "I don't know, since dragons aren't real. Aren't you a little old to be believing in that stuff?"  
  
Sam ignored that last question. "Missouri said you were wrong."  
  
"Yeah, but she's been doing that for years. If dragons are real, how come I've never seen one?"  
  
"There's too much lore and legends for them not to be real. Maybe there aren't any now, but there must have been at some point."  
  
"Ok, Sammy," said Dean condescendingly. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."   
  
Sam huffed, knowing he wouldn't win this one. "Jerk," he muttered under his breath.  
  
"Bitch!" Dean called back.  
  
They were nearing the edge of the Great Forest when they ran into trouble. They'd made it across the kingdom almost entirely without incident, although the number of soldiers on the roads had kept increasing as the days went on. However, their luck had held out and they had successfully evaded any run-ins with the soldiers until now.  
  
The day had gotten off to a bad start, with both Sam and Dean waking up in an irritable mood. It had rained overnight and they hadn't been able to find much shelter. After a very wet and uncomfortable night sleeping outside, they discovered that animals had gotten into their packs, and eaten the last of their food and they were miles away from any civilisation, so couldn't restock any time soon. Dean looked enviously at Stanford and Impala, as they rode along. The horses weren't starving, as they could eat the grass that grew along the roadside. Dean sighed, his stomach rumbling loudly, as he turned to look at Sam, who sat in the saddle, looking extremely grumpy. He had been complaining about a headache since they woke up, and wasn't looking too well. Dean sighed again as they turned a corner, before stopping short.  
  
Half a dozen men stood in a line, effectively blocking the road. They wore black armour and were armed with crossbows, their black eyes clearly marking them as servants of the Dark One. There was no other way to go, and the boys had been seen.  
  
"Halt," said the lead soldier, approaching the brothers on their horses. "What is the purpose of your journey?"  
  
"We're just farm boys, trying to return home after trading in the last town. Is there a problem?" asked Dean with conviction. They had prepared this story in case of any such encounters, and it didn't seem too difficult to believe, although it stung a little to remember the life they'd left behind.  
  
"Yes, there is," replied the soldier. "You see, there are no farms beyond here. Only the Great Forest where the rebels lurk, and beyond that, the next kingdom, where we are not welcome. Where are you really going? You see, our master ordered us to search for two farm boys who seem to fit your descriptions, believed to be heading towards the rebel camp. It would appear we have found them. After all, why would a simple farm boy be carrying such a fine sword?" He gestured at the sword, which Dean had tried to conceal beneath his cloak.   
  
Dean swore under his breath and his mind began to race. They were outnumbered by the soldiers, but perhaps it would be possible to find a way past them. They had the advantage of being on horseback, although they lacked fighting skills, and it was likely that they wouldn't be followed into the forest. There were plenty of horror stories about the creatures that lay within, aside from the fact that it was rebel territory.   
  
They could not be captured by the Dark One, not now, so they had to try something. Dean glanced at Sam, who looked like he was about to pass out, but had evidently reached a similar conclusion. Their eyes met, and Dean gave a tiny nod as a signal to move.  
  
Sam grabbed his bow, notched an arrow and fired at the lead soldier, as Dean clumsily drew his sword. The arrow hit the man in the knee and he howled in pain, as Impala reared up on her hind legs before charging at the remaining soldiers and sending them scattering in all directions. Sam galloped after his brother, and the men began to give chase. Dean spurred Impala on, rapidly closing the distance between him and relative safety, and only skidding to a halt once he had broken through the trees and into the cool and quiet of the forest. He turned to his brother, ready to celebrate, but Sam was nowhere to be seen.   
  
Dean leapt down from his horse and began running back the way he had just come. As he reached the edge of the trees, he caught a glimpse of his brother slipping out of the saddle, surrounded by the men. He staggered a few paces, clutching his head in his hands, before hitting the ground with a sickening thud, and lying very still, as the soldiers began to close in, aiming their weapons. Sam appeared to be having another one of his visions at the absolute worst possible moment. Dean cried out in anguish, and kept running towards them, but there was nothing he could do. He was too far away.  
  
However, before the soldiers could reach him, Sam sat bolt upright, his eyes glazed and unseeing, and the grass burst into purple flames around him. The men began to back away, clearly uncomfortable with the strange power that they didn't understand. Dean thought that this was a little ironic, considering that they were working for an evil sorcerer, but then again, he didn't suppose they had much choice in the matter. The flames around Sam were rising higher and higher, and as one of the men released a bolt from his crossbow, the flames surged outwards, a wave of fire ripping outwards from his brother, engulfing everything in their path. Dean realised that it was heading for him too. In a last ditch effort, he flung his father's shield up, even though he suspected it wasn't going to do much, and he was probably going to die.  
  
When the light and heat faded, Dean lowered the shield in amazement. Somehow it had protected him from Sam's magic, stopped him being disintegrated like the soldiers that had been pursuing. All that was left was piles of ash, shifting slightly in the breeze. Somehow, they were only things destroyed. The grass and the trees should have been burnt to a crisp as well, but they were fine. Sam stood perfectly still, his hair and clothes being slightly ruffled by the wind. His eyes remained fixed on some unseen thing, which Dean found quite unnerving. After a few moments, Sam's eyes came back into focus, and he looked around in horror as he became aware of what he had done, before beginning to sway on his feet.   
  
Dean moved to go to his brother's side before he collapsed. He noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye, but before he could see what it was, something hit him very hard in the back of the head, and everything went black.


	4. Chapter 3

When Dean came around, his first thought was that he was really thirsty, and it was dark. He couldn't see a thing. It took a moment to realise that he was blindfolded, gagged and his wrists and ankles were tied together with rope. Everything ached, and he assumed that he had a spectacular lump on the back of his head, although he couldn't exactly check in his current situation. He wondered how long he had been unconscious, as the events of earlier began coming back to him. He began to panic; what the hell had happened? Where was Sam? Come to think of it, where the hell was he?   
  
As he struggled against his bonds, the sensation of being watched came over him. He paused in his struggle, and when he did so, he was roughly hauled to his feet.  
  
"Oh Good, you're awake," a gruff voice said loudly in his ear, causing him to jump. "It's about time, there's someone who's been wanting to speak with you since you arrived."  
  
Dean tried to protest, as he felt hands untying his ankles, but only a muffled grunt came out around the gag.  
  
"Sorry, can't hear you!" the voice laughed, although not entirely unpleasantly."Now get moving!"  
  
Dean felt something hard jabbing into his back, and tried not to fall forwards. After finding his feet he allowed himself to be led towards some unknown destination. His best guess was that the rebels had found them and taken them hostage until they could be proven trustworthy, although that was really a best case scenario. He shuddered to think about where he might be taken and what they might do to him. They could be killed at any moment; maybe they'd actually been captured by bandits instead, or more of the Dark One's forces. Dean tried to distract himself from coming up with unhelpful theories by trying to determine more about his surroundings. He assumed that they were in the forest, as it was cooler and the air smelt of wood and leaves, although the surface underfoot didn't feel like forest floor. He knew he had passed over what seemed to be some kind of bridge; he'd felt it swaying as he walked, but he couldn't hear any water below, only hushed voices. He could also tell that there were people staring at him, even though he couldn't see them.   
  
After a few minutes, although to him it felt like much longer, Dean was shoved through a doorway and forced down onto his knees, before the blindfold was unceremoniously removed. The sight that met his eyes was not what he was expecting at all.  
  
The walls and floor of the room he was in were made of wood, and it was comfortably furnished. More importantly, a girl with fiery red hair, who couldn't have been any older than Sammy, was holding a very sharp knife very close to his throat. His eyes widened, and he hoped the noise which escaped his mouth didn't sound as high pitched and pathetic as he thought it did.   
  
"Who are you?" she hissed. "And what do you want? You led a squadron of the Dark One's soldiers right onto our doorstep. Add to that your friend's little display of what I can only assume is sorcery, and you had better give me one good reason why I shouldn't just kill you on the spot."  
  
Dean looked at her somewhat incredulously, as she could clearly see that he couldn't exactly answer her questions with a gag in his mouth. It took the girl a moment to realise this, and she made a motion with her hand and the unknown man who had led him here removed it. "Who are you?" countered Dean. "What is this place? What happened to my horse and all my stuff? Where's Sam? Where's my brother? You'd better tell me or so help me I will-" he felt the cold of her blade press into his neck.  
  
"What will you do?" the girl asked with a smile that made Dean feel a little uncomfortable. "You're tied up and unarmed; I know, I took your weapons myself. Do you really think you're in a position to be asking me questions? Are you stupid or something? Don't answer that."  
  
"I demand to speak to the leader here!" Dean shouted rather feebly.  
  
"You are," said the girl. "That would be me."  
  
"But... you're..." Dean was slightly flabbergasted.  
  
"A seventeen year old girl? Yes, I was aware. But I think you'll find that I'm more than a match for you. So start talking."  
  
Dean took a deep breath, and began. "My name is Dean. Dean Winchester, and my brother, the boy who was with me, is Sam Winchester."  
  
"Let me stop you right there," interrupted the girl. "You honestly expect me to believe that you two are the lost princes of Winchester? Like I haven't heard that one before..."  
  
"But it's true! Our home was destroyed by the Dark One's forces and we've travelled half way across the kingdom to try and find the rebel forces, because we were told that you could help us. We were told that you could teach us to fight, so that we can defeat the Dark One and reclaim the throne. You are the rebel forces, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes," said the girl. "But, there's no way in hell you're who you say you are. You're just a couple of morons who let yourselves get chased by the Dark One's soldiers, then captured by us. That is, assuming you're not actually spies for the Dark One."  
  
"We're not! I can prove it!" Dean was beginning to get desperate, and was more than a little fed up of not being believed. "My eyes aren't black, are they? And the weapons you took from me? The sword and shield bear the Winchester crest and motto. They belonged to my father, King John. Why else would I have them?"  
  
"I don't know. Maybe you stole them, or they're really good fakes. Maybe this is all part of some elaborate plot to expose us, by making me believe that you are the princes, only to have you betray us all."  
  
"That's ridiculous," Dean was really starting to get annoyed.  
  
"I might agree with you, boy," said the man from behind him. Dean could now see that he was an older man, with a scruffy beard, but he wore metal armour and carried a sword at his side. He moved to speak to the girl and lowered his voice. "I think he might be the real deal, Charlie," he whispered. "He has a look of the Queen about him."  
  
"But, Bobby..."  
  
"Um... The sword was given to me by Missouri Mosley, if that means anything to you," Dean continued, remembering what she'd said about mentioning her name. "She's the woman who raised me, and she told me the truth about who I was minutes before I was forced to leave the only home I've ever known."  
  
"I'm sorry," said the girl in disbelief, her eyes wide, and all traces of anger in her voice gone. "But did you just say Missouri Mosley?"  
  
"Um...Yes?" He was very confused by her sudden change in attitude.  
  
"Then, I must apologise for all of this Your Highness." She moved to untie Dean, and the man offered him a chair. "We'd heard that Missouri had been hiding you, protecting you; but we didn't know where, or that she would be sending you to us any time soon. But, I thought she'd be with you, where...?"  
  
"She's not coming," Dean said blankly. It still hurt to think about her. "She stayed behind to face the Dark One's forces, to give us a chance to escape. The farmhouse burned down. She's dead."  
  
The girl looked saddened, and unsure of what to say. Eventually she whispered, "I am so sorry for your loss, and for the way we've treated you so far. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, please Your Highness I -"  
  
"Please, just call me Dean," he interrupted. "None of that Your Highness stuff, it's too weird. Why don't you tell me about yourself. I mean, how does someone like you end up as the leader of a rebel army?"  
  
"Ok," she sat down opposite him. "My name is Charlie Bradbury. Growing up, my parents wanted me to behave like a lady, but I was much more interested in sword fighting and adventures than sewing and all that stuff. The Dark One killed my parents in front of me when I was twelve years old. I don't know how or why I was spared, and I didn't wait to find out. I ran, and I learned to survive on my own pretty quickly. I ran into some of the rebels during a midnight raid; I was trying to steal food from the same place as them, and I've stuck with them ever since. They didn't care that I was a girl, and they taught me to fight properly. It also turned out that I'm a bit of a tactical genius, and a couple of months ago I was elected as leader, even though I'm one of the youngest. I want to see the Dark One defeated, and avenge my parents deaths."

She looked at Dean, trying to see what he made of her tale. He looked slightly in awe. "Everyone here has their own reasons for fighting, but most have lost something or someone to the Dark One and are out for revenge. Bobby here is my second in command," she gestured to the man, who gave Dean kind smile, which was a pleasant surprise on his gruff and serious face.  
  
"I was one of your father's knights at the royal court. Your parents, they were good people," he said. "My wife Karen worked in the castle too. I wasn't in Lawrence the night of the takeover, but she was. And she died because of that yellow eyed son of a bitch. If you and your brother think you can defeat him and return the kingdom to the old ways, then I will do everything I can to help you."  
  
"Thank you so much," breathed Dean, looking back to Charlie. When he looked closer, she seemed so much older than seventeen, with all the things she'd seen and done. As they were about the same age, Dean couldn't help comparing her to Sam, but Sam just seemed so much younger in comparison.   
  
"Where's my brother?" Dean asked again, as he realised that he still didn't know.  
  
"I'll take you to him," said Charlie. "As far as I know, he's still unconscious. He hit his head pretty hard. But I have to ask you about what he can do. The people here are even less fond of sorcerers than most. We know firsthand what they can do, and what Sam did earlier? Well... What I'm trying to say is, is he dangerous? I'm not trying to be rude Dean, but I have a lot of people's safety to think about."  
  
Dean didn't say anything for a while. He couldn't help feeling a little bit upset at what she'd said about Sammy, although he did understand. He wasn't sure exactly what his little brother was capable of, but he refused to see him get hurt or turned away. "No," he said evenly, hoping he wouldn't be proven wrong, then feeling guilty for even thinking that. "My brother is not dangerous. His powers only surfaced recently, and he doesn't have the best control yet, but I know that he would never intentionally hurt anyone. Now, take me to him."  
  
Charlie nodded, deep in thought, and motioned for him to follow her. She led him out of her room, and into a large forest clearing. Sort of. Dean's jaw dropped when he saw exactly where he was. They stood on a platform, near the top of one of the oldest and tallest trees in the forest, with a complicated series of ropes, bridges and ladders connecting all the trees around the clearing. There were various cabins, tree-houses and tents built among the branches, and assorted people milling around, all dressed in the green and brown colours of the rebel forces. Campfires were burning on the forest floor below, and he could hear the sounds of people sparring and training with their weapons.   
  
"Pretty impressive, huh?" Charlie nudged him. Dean just nodded and took a deep breath, as he didn't have the best head for heights. "It's a brilliant defensive position," she continued. "If we pull up all the ladders, nobody can get up, and we're pretty hard to shoot down. Not that we've actually needed to test it..."  
  
People were staring as they walked over several of the bridges, but Charlie just smiled and waved in a friendly manner and whispered to Dean to ignore them. After a few minutes, they arrived at a cabin with a locked door and a man and a woman standing guard outside.  
  
Charlie excused herself and made her way over to talk to the guards. They spoke in whispers, although Dean heard snatches of the conversation, in particular the words "dangerous" "brother" "sorcery" and "trust me." When they had finished speaking the woman nodded, unlocked the door and left, whereas the man gave Dean a filthy look and stayed exactly where he was. Charlie beckoned Dean over, looking apologetic and whispered, "Sorry about Gordon, I tried to explain, but he feels more strongly about sorcery than most people here, and he insisted on staying put in case you or Sam tried anything."  
  
"Don't worry about it," muttered Dean, glaring back at Gordon, before entering the cabin. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, he didn't like what he saw.   
  
Sam lay slumped against the far wall, still unconscious, and bound in heavy iron chains.  
  
"What the hell?!" Dean asked Charlie and Bobby, who had followed them in.  
  
"We figured it was best to secure him, until we knew what he was capable of..."  
  
"Well, unsecure him," said Dean coldly as he took in the dark purple bruises and dried blood on the side of his little brother's face, from where he'd fallen off Stanford. Dean hated to see Sam like this, so he tried to remove the chains as quickly as he could, trying not to move his brother too much, before reaching down to brush his floppy hair off his forehead.   
  
The second he made contact, Sam jolted awake. He sat bolt upright, his breathing panicked and a haunted look in his eyes. Dean held out a hand to steady his brother. "Whoa, Sammy. Sammy! Calm down. It's me. It's Dean. You're alright. We're fine."  
  
"Where am I?" Sam whispered, still clearly shaken. "What happened? I... remember falling, I remember losing control. I... Did I kill all those men?"  
  
"I... I don't know. I think so?" replied Dean, honestly unsure of what he'd witnessed. "But it's ok."

"No. I nearly killed you too!" More and more was coming back to Sam. "I couldn't stop it. How are you still alive?"

"It was the shield. I put it up, and it kept me safe from the fire. I don't understand how, I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to work like that."

"Yes it is," said Bobby. "You're talking about John's shield, right?" Dean nodded. "It's an ancient heirloom of the royal line of Winchester. It's enchanted to offer protection against most kinds of magic. Pretty handy thing to have."

"I'm sorry," interrupted Sam. "But, who...?"

 "Oh!" Dean realised he hadn't explained yet. "We made it Sam, we're at the rebel camp. And they're letting us stay. This is Charlie and Bobby, they're in charge."  
  
They both offered Sam a warm smile, and Charlie said, "If you can get up, I think I'd better introduce you to everyone else, they're all pretty curious as to what's going on."   
  
She nodded to Bobby who left the cabin, as she helped Dean get his brother to his feet. All Sam really wanted to do was go back to sleep; everything ached, and he still had a headache which suggested that a vision could still hit him at any time. Or maybe it was just a concussion. But, he was curious about the rebels, and knew he had to try and make a good impression. He knew he'd been less than stellar so far, so he stayed quiet as they made their way outside. Sam leaned heavily on his brother as they reached the forest floor, where around a hundred people were assembled, looking at Sam and Dean with varying levels of suspicion and curiosity.  
  
"Listen up everybody," Charlie spoke, and a hushed silence fell. "We have some new recruits. I don't know what you may have heard since they got here, but they have told me their story, and however unbelievable it may seem, I believe them to be trustworthy. If anyone disagrees with my decision to let them stay, they can take it up with me or Bobby personally." Nobody said a word, although that may have had something to do with the knife that Charlie was twirling between her fingers. "Now ladies and gentlemen," she continued, pausing for dramatic effect. "It is an honour and a privilege to present to you Their Royal Highnesses Samuel and Dean, the lost Princes and heirs to the kingdom of Winchester."  
  
She dropped to one knee as she finished speaking, and the assembled crowd began to whisper and mutter, almost unable to comprehend how the dishevelled young men, hardly more than boys, who stood before them could possibly be the lost princes of legend, come to reclaim the throne. However, gradually, one by one, the assembled rebels also fell to one knee, leaving a bemused Sam and Dean standing in the centre of it all.   
  
Someone in the crowd began to clap, and soon everyone was cheering and applauding, for their last hope was here.  



	5. Chapter 4

Whatever Sam and Dean had been expecting, this kind of reception was not it, which meant they had absolutely no idea how to react. They just stood there awkwardly, until the cheering died down, at which point an extremely uncomfortable silence took over. Fortunately, Charlie took charge of the situation, thanking everyone for their support, and quickly steering the brothers away. Once out of earshot, she began to apologise profusely, but Dean stopped her.  
  
"Don't worry about it," he said. "Can you tell us where we can go to get some food or rest? I think Sam's going to pass out here."  
  
Sam nodded weakly in agreement, giving a small but grateful smile.   
  
"Sure," Charlie said. "I'll find you guys an somewhere where you can crash and I'll get Ellen or somebody to bring you something to eat. I'll have your belongings sent up as well. Oh, and I hope you don't mind, but your horses have been put in the stable, just in case you were wondering. Anyway, wait right here."  
  
She returned a few minutes later, and led them to a cabin that was empty apart from two beds, one of which Sam claimed immediately by collapsing onto it and falling deeply asleep with his boots still on.  
  
Unfortunately it wasn't a peaceful sleep, as he dreamt about the events of the day, as well as a series of scenes and faces that he didn't know yet, but guessed he soon would. He felt the amazing surge of power that he'd felt earlier in that field, and the fear that came from his inability to control it. He'd have to be more careful; he wouldn't, no, he couldn't hurt anyone else. Then came the things he didn't understand. He saw a man with piercing blue eyes and dark hair, who appeared to be lost; there two dark haired girls who served the Dark One, and then the scarred man with the yellow eyes himself. Azazel. He didn't know how he knew that name; he was sure he'd never heard or read it before, but somehow he knew that it was the Dark One's true name. Various fights and battles flashed by, and Dean was wounded, but he couldn't see any more details. There was a great castle, silver and gold crowns, and a collection of curious looking stones that he felt inexplicably drawn to. Finally, he saw himself. He saw himself doing unspeakable things, things he would never dream of doing, and yet, deep down, somehow he knew that he would. That wasn't the most troubling part though; it was the fact that his eyes had been yellow too.  
  
He woke up in a cold sweat, instantly deciding to keep what he had seen to himself. It was the middle of the night and Dean was snoring gently in the other bed; Sam didn't bother to wake him. He didn't know when the things in his dream would come to pass, and he didn't really understand what it all meant, so there was need to trouble anyone else with it yet. He just hoped that things could be changed, or maybe they wouldn't be quite how they had seemed.  
  
Eventually, Sam drifted back to sleep and woke up late the next morning, feeling surprisingly rested. Dean was gone, but Sam wasn't worried. They were safe now and he couldn't have gone too far. He noticed that their packs had been left at the end of the beds and checked that his weapons and invisibility cloak were still there, before making his way outside to find his brother.  
  
Upon exiting the cabin, he took a moment to stop and stare, taking in the scale of the rebel camp. The treetop village was incredible; he hadn't quite realised the previous day, having been a little out of it, but now he was thoroughly impressed. He spotted Dean on the forest floor below, eating breakfast with a group of other people.   
  
He made his way down to join them, picking up a plate of food from the large table where a variety of things were laid out, as he passed. He sat down beside his brother, who immediately flung an arm around him, grinning. "Glad to see you up and about, Sammy!" He said. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Better, thanks," Sam smiled shyly at the other people in the circle. He recognised the girl and the man who had been in charge the day before, but he hadn't met the other three people.  
  
"I should probably introduce everyone, huh?" asked Dean. "You remember Charlie and Bobby." They gave Sam friendly smiles.  
  
 "Wait, Bobby... Bobby Singer?" asked Sam. The man nodded, so Sam continued. "Missouri said I should come and talk to you. She said you knew our parents and could tell us all about drago-"  
  
Dean rolled his eyes, as Sam was abruptly shushed by the old man. "Not here," Bobby hissed into his ear. "I can tell you what you want to know, but not with all these people listening. Come to my place later tonight and we'll talk then."  
  
Dean was focused intently on his plate of bacon, and didn't seem to have heard what Bobby had said to Sam. Sam was secretly relieved, he was getting sick of his brother teasing him for believing in dragons. After swallowing his mouthful of food, Dean continued with the introductions. "This is Ellen and Jo," he said, gesturing to a woman and a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, sitting opposite. They were clearly related, perhaps mother and daughter, and they smiled at Sam too, although there was less warmth, and it may have seemed a little forced. Still, he was grateful that they were making an effort to make him feel welcome.  
  
"And this is Benny," Dean introduced the final member of their little group. "He's a blacksmith and he's in charge of the armoury and weapons and stuff, isn't that cool?!" Sam couldn't help grinning at his brother's enthusiasm, as Benny nodded politely at Sam.  
  
"So," said Charlie, moving the conversation on. "If you guys are done eating, why don't we head over to the armoury and get you kitted out? Then we'll see what you can do, and take things from there."  
  
The boys nodded, shoving the last of their food into their mouths, and getting ready to follow Charlie, although it was Benny who got to his feet first and said, "This way."  
  
Benny and Charlie led them across the clearing to a small wooden structure. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dimness inside, but when they did they could see the walls were lined with shelves that were mostly empty. Benny began rummaging through the few items that were there, occasionally throwing a piece of armour to the floor. "Hey Charlie," he said as he sorted through a pile. "Next time you organise a raid, try to pick up some more armour and weapons. If anyone else turns up, we'll have a hard job finding gear for them."  
  
"I know," Charlie replied, frowning slightly. "But that stuff's not easy to get. Still, we haven't been on a raid in a while. I'll see what I can do."  
  
"Okay boys," said Benny after a few more minutes. "This should fit you." He kicked the assortment of items at his feet, suggesting that they should pick them up.  
  
There was a chest plate for each of them, as well as pieces for their shoulders, bracers for their arms and greaves to protect their legs. They were also given a thick tunic to wear underneath it all. Dean was a little bit surprised to find that the armour was made from hard leather, rather than the chain mail and metal plates he had seen the Dark One's soldiers and Bobby wearing. As he and Sam helped lace each other into it, following Benny's instructions, Dean supposed he could see the sense in having leather armour. It was much lighter than it's metal counterpart would be, making it much easier and quicker to move in. It would also be easier and cheaper to make, meaning that there would be more around to steal, as well as it being easier to adjust or repair. He just hoped that it would be effective enough when it came down to it.  
  
It took a while for them to get their armour on properly, but Charlie assured them that they'd get quicker with practise, before leading them back outside. She took them to the training ring, which was marked out in the very centre of the clearing. Today, it was empty except for Jo, who stood waiting for them.  
  
"Jo's kindly offered to spar with you," Charlie explained. "Who wants to go first?"  
  
Dean grinned. "I will," he said, looking Jo up and down. She was a nice girl, but she didn't exactly look intimidating. He didn't suppose it would be too hard to beat her, even though he didn't really know what he was doing. "Don't worry kid, I'll go easy on you."  
  
"Oh really?" she said, raising an eyebrow, and glancing at Sam, who just shrugged helplessly. "Come on then."  
  
"Wait, do I need my sword or something?" asked Dean.  
  
"God, no," replied Charlie. "I'm not letting you idiots near a real sword yet, you'd just hurt yourselves, or other people. No, you're going to be using these." She handed him a crudely made wooden sword, essentially a long stick. He sighed, not bothering to hide his disappointment, before moving to stand opposite Jo. He swung his stick, but she raised her own, and blocked his strike without even batting an eyelid. Dean continued swinging and thrusting, trying desperately to land a hit, but his opponent was always one step ahead, blocking his every move and landing a few well-placed strikes of her own.  
  
A small crowd was beginning to gather, wanting to see how the Princes would fare. This made Dean more determined to prove himself, although he was beginning to tire, and he began to get careless. Jo was landing more and more hits, some of which were actually quite painful. Dean swung again, and Jo blocked, and they stood with their sticks locked together, neither of them wishing to give in.  
  
However, it was over quickly, as with a sharp flick of her wrist, Jo managed to knock Dean's stick out of his hand. As he turned to see where it had gone, she whacked him behind the knees, knocking his feet out from underneath him and sending him crashing to the ground. As he lay on his back, gasping for breath, he found Jo holding the end of her stick to his throat, making it even more clear that she had bested him.   
  
"I don't know, Your Highness," she said with a smirk. "I think you might have made that a little too easy."  
  
Brilliant, Dean thought, scowling as she skipped away. He'd just been beaten up in front of a group of people he was trying to impress, by a little girl with a stick. It was embarrassing, although in hindsight, he probably should have seen it coming. Jo was part of the rebel army, and Charlie had already shown him that looks could be deceiving. Either way, it put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day.  
  
"Fancy a go?" Jo asked Sam, who was finding Dean's failure absolutely hilarious.   
  
"No thanks," he laughed. "I'm probably even worse than he is, so I think I'll just let you teach."  
  
"Smart boy." She clapped him on the shoulder, and beckoned Dean over, before launching into a description of basic fighting forms and stances. They spent the rest of the day running various drills, Dean with a face like a smacked backside the whole time. He knew he was acting like a brat, and that he really shouldn't, especially judging by the bitch-faces Sam kept giving him at every opportunity, but his ego was bruised and he didn't really know what to do about it, so he just carried on until it was time to get ready for the evening meal.  
  
After dinner, everyone else quickly disappeared, leaving Dean and Jo alone to clear up. Given the excellent start they'd gotten off to, the silence between them was extremely heavy and uncomfortable, as they walked down to the nearby stream to wash the dishes. Dean wondered where the hell his brother had gone, as he glanced awkwardly at his stony-faced companion, eventually blurting, "I'm sorry!"  
  
"Huh?" Jo looked up, surprised to be spoken to.  
  
"I'm sorry," repeated Dean. "I acted like a complete dick to you today when you didn't really deserve it. I'm not usually like that I swear, I just... Well... I wanted to make a good first impression, and I was embarrassed, and I didn't like being beaten by a girl!"  
  
"Don't worry about it," said Jo, with a small smile, which confused Dean. "Most of the guys here hate losing to me; I've put up with a lot worse than you. I have to say though, I think you're the only one to ever actually apologise for being a douchebag. Thanks for that."  
  
"You're welcome. But seriously, how are you so good?"  
  
"Years of practise. This has been my life for as long as I can remember. My dad was killed when I was really little, and my mom brought us here straight after. I pretty much grew up fighting, although my mom won't let me actually go out and fight. It's so unfair! But you weren't completely useless today. I reckon with more training you might end up being almost as good as me."  
  
"Oh, really?" laughed Dean. Jo nodded in response, laughing as well. The conversation flowed easily from that point, and they ended up chatting late into the night.

 

* * *

  
Sam, meanwhile, had gone to see a man about a dragon. He'd slipped away after dinner, but it took a little while to find Bobby's tent. In the end, he had to ask for directions, but he eventually found it and poked his head around the flap. The first thing he noticed was the books. The tent was stuffed with them. There were several bookcases, practically bursting at the seams, as well as piles spilling onto the floor, covering most of it. There was hardly room to stand, never mind room for the narrow bed, small table and rickety chairs, which also had several books on them. As Sam glanced around, he saw ancient tomes, as well as some newer books, on every subject imaginable. It was more books than he'd seen in his whole life.   
  
"Like what you see?" asked the older man, making Sam jump. He hadn't noticed him crouched among the stacks of books.  
  
"I...Um..." Sam didn't know what to say. "It's very impressive, Sir."  
  
"Take a seat." He gestured to one of the chairs. "I have something for you." He pushed the pile of books on the table towards Sam. "Magic books."  
  
"But, why?" asked Sam, extremely confused. "I thought everyone here hated magic and that I shouldn't use it."  
  
"Well then, you'll have to be extra careful," Bobby said bluntly.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"You need to practise," explained Bobby. "You need to be able to control your powers completely. If you mess up, the results can be interesting, as you discovered yesterday. And I for one will sleep a lot easier at night knowing that isn't going to happen. The others are just going to have to get used to it."  
  
Sam nodded, relieved to have someone on his side. "How do you know so much about this anyway?" He asked. "Are you... I mean, do you have...?"  
  
"No. But back in the day, there were a fair few sorcerers in the royal court. I picked up a few things. I don't know much, but I know a little. I know a little bit about a lot of things actually. Just enough to be dangerous to the wrong people."  
  
"Did you know my parents then?" Sam wondered aloud. "What were they like?"  
  
"They were good people; strong leaders and good friends too. Your daddy could be a stubborn ass sometimes, but he was alright really. And your mom was so kind and clever. I see a lot of them in you and your brother, and I'm sorry you never got to know them."  
  
Bobby looked over at Sam, who was staring intently at the floor.   
  
"Why did he kill them?" Sam asked after a while. "I know the stories about what happened, but nobody ever talks about why. Was he just that desperate to rule the kingdom?"  
  
"Well," began Bobby. "Not many people know the real reason behind why it all happened. I do. This whole mess started a long time ago; probably about five years before you and your brother were even born. Your parents went out for a ride one day, and they found something. They took shelter from a thunderstorm in a cave, where they discovered a hoard of dragon eggs."  
  
"Dragon eggs?" breathed Sam, almost disbelievingly.   
  
"Yup. Most people had dismissed dragons as mere legends, even back then, but this changed everything. Of course, hardly anyone was allowed to know about this discovery. The very worst people in the whole world would be desperate to get their hands on something as powerful as that. So the eggs were locked away in a secret underground vault until a time when they were needed, or someone worked out how to hatch the damned things. Because nobody had any idea how to actually get the dragons out of the eggs."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, the legends kindly left out that part... Anyway, various sorcerers including the Queen tried everything they could think of to solve the problem, but nothing worked. Eventually, they gave up, moving on to more pressing matters, although there were occasional attempts. Except for one man; Azazel, who you probably know as the Dark One. He was a court sorcerer, pretty high up too, but he became obsessed with the eggs. He kept turning to darker and more dangerous magic, trying to hatch the dragons. His final attempt included a grab for the throne and nearly destroyed the city, so he was banished, and nobody ever expected to see him again."  
  
"But he came back. Why?"  
  
"Said he finally knew how to get what he wanted, before killing the King and Queen and taking over."  
  
"But if he knew how to hatch the dragons, why hasn't he done it? I mean, I assume he hasn't, because I haven't exactly seen any dragons flying around..."  
  
"I wish I knew. It doesn't make a lick of sense. Maybe he's waiting for the right time? Or maybe he still doesn't have what he needs..."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"He was discovered in your nursery. I have a horrible feeling he might need you and your brother for something; that's why he's so desperate to find you."  
  
Sam felt a weight settle on his chest. Bobby's theory made a lot of sense, as much as he hated it. He didn't want to be used as part of the Dark One's plans. He was brought out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. It had gotten surprisingly late, and Charlie had come to speak to Bobby about something. He picked up the books that Bobby had given him, before making a hasty exit, thanking the man as he left. He had a lot to think about.


	6. Chapter 5

When Dean returned to their shared cabin, he found Sam sitting there in the darkness, staring into space.  
  
"What's up?" He asked, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. Sam turned to look at Dean, snapping out of his daze, before sharing what Bobby had told him. He tactfully left out the part about practising his magic; Dean didn't need to know about that yet. His brother was warming up to the idea of his powers, but it was still early days; he didn't want to push him away again. When he'd finished speaking, Dean flopped onto his bed, running his hand through his hair. "Wow, Sammy," he said. "That's a lot to take in."  
  
"Yup."  
  
"But, dragon eggs? Seriously?"  
  
"Apparently. Anyway, I guess we'd better get some sleep," Sam got into bed and turned to face the wall, clearly not wanting to talk anymore.  
  
"Okay..." Dean kicked off his boots, and turned over, trying to get comfortable, but his mind wouldn't rest just yet. Even if he still wasn't entirely convinced about the existence of dragons, the thought that the Dark One wanted him or his brother for any reason worried him more than he was willing to let on. Both boys lay awake for a long time, but eventually they drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean woke up to sunlight streaming through the window. Groggily, he opened his eyes to find himself back in his own bed, in he and Sam's attic bedroom in the farmhouse. He'd had this dream most nights since they'd left, dreaming that he was home and everything was back to how it had always been. All things considered, it wasn't a bad dream, but it wasn't a happy one either, as it reminded Dean of what he'd lost. Sighing, he made his way downstairs as he'd done every morning.

In the kitchen he found Sam asleep at the table, his head resting on an open book. It was a common occurrence, and Dean smiled to see it again. As he busied himself with breakfast, Sam began to stir. As he realised where he was, a sad look came over him. That was different, thought Dean. Normally in these dreams it was as if nothing had ever happened, but this time Sam looked spooked. He started looking around the kitchen in confusion, before getting up and pacing anxiously around the floor. This was definitely not a normal dream.

 

* * *

 

Sam had also spent many nights dreaming about home, so when he woke up with his head in a book at the kitchen table it wasn't a surprise, but it still came with a rush of emotions, mainly sadness. Dean was busying himself with breakfast, and it seemed like any normal day on the farm, except something was off. He didn't quite know how to explain it, but something just didn't feel quite right. Nothing looked out of place as he scanned round the room, but he still wasn't convinced that this was just a dream. Suddenly, it hit him. This felt more like the beginning of one of his visions than a normal dream. Of course, that only set him on edge. What was he going to see now? Without realising it, he'd started pacing round the room, and Dean was staring at him.

"Why did he have to start being all weird in my dreams too?" Sam heard his brother mutter. That grabbed his attention.

"Did you just say this is your dream?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah, because it is," said Dean. "Why?"

"Because, I'm pretty sure that this is my dream. Only I'm not so sure that it's just a dream."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"If you boys would like to sit down, I can explain," called a new voice. Sam and Dean's heads whipped round to see Missouri standing in the doorway, smiling at them with tears in her eyes. Without even stopping to think about what was going on, the boys ran over to her, and the three of them just held each other in a tight hug.

"Is this real?" asked Sam. "Are you really here?"

"In a sense," replied Missouri, forthcoming with answers as always.

"So, does this mean you survived?" Dean asked, eyes hopeful. "Are you alive? And who's dream is this anyway?"

"I called you both here so I could talk to you together. Technically you're both having the same dream."

Sam and Dean nodded. They were willing to go with it.

"But how can you do that?" asked Sam. "Manipulate our dreams, unless you have..."

"Magic," Missouri finished his sentence. "Not like you though, Sam. I'm just a little bit psychic, but it was enough to come and see you boys."

"Psychic..." Dean repeated. "Is that how you always knew when I was getting into trouble as a kid?!"

Missouri laughed. "That, and I know you really well, Dean Winchester."

"You still haven't answered our other question," Sam cut in. "Are you really here? Are you still alive?"

Missouri shook her head. "And I don't have long to talk to you. I had to make sure you were safe, so I managed to stay in the veil thanks to my powers. But now I know that you're alright, it's time for me to go on. I'm glad I managed to find the strength to appear to you and say goodbye, since we didn't really get to say it before. It's nice to see the old house again too. We had a good run here. Do you dream about it often?"

Sam and Dean nodded. The three of them gripped each other in another hug, as they whispered their tearful goodbyes. There wasn't really anything else to say, even though they'd dreamed of seeing Missouri again.

"Thank you," said Sam. "For everything you ever did for us."

"Yeah," added Dean. "We never told you enough. But, thank you."

"I'm so proud of you boys," Missouri said, pulling away from them. "The two of you are destined for great things, did I tell you that? It's been foretold, and I have absolutely no doubt that you will achieve those things. I have to go now, I'm sorry. Goodbye!"

The kitchen began to blur and fade around Sam and Dean, and they knew that they were waking up. They shared one final smile with Missouri before she disappeared completely from view, and they awoke in their cabin at the rebel camp. The brothers shared a glance with each other, tears still in their eyes, and silently agreed not to tell anyone about what had happened.

 

* * *

  
Having gotten some closure on their old lives, Sam and Dean threw themselves into life at the camp, settling into a routine over the next few days. They would get up early, have breakfast and get to training. With a short break for lunch, they trained until mid afternoon, usually with Jo or her mother Ellen, although sometimes Bobby or Charlie would turn up, either to watch or have a go themselves. After training, they would help out with various jobs around camp, before the evening meal, after which they were free to do whatever they pleased. They would exercise their horses most days as well, exploring the extensive network of forest trails, although they were forbidden from leaving the shelter of the trees.  
  
The days soon turned to weeks, and Sam and Dean were making great progress. They were fast learners, and quickly mastered the basics of sword fighting. Soon, they were actually allowed to practise with real swords, as opposed to sticks. They were also trained in fighting with knives and their fists, as well as longer range weapons like bows. Sam had already been a decent shot, but now his aim was deadly. He was also quickly becoming skilled at throwing knives, with terrifying precision. In contrast, Dean favoured the sword and had a natural talent for close combat.

 

* * *

  
Autumn arrived, slowly turning the rebel camp beautiful shades of orange and gold. More raiding parties were being sent out, in order to ensure that the rebels had enough supplies to last them the whole winter. Once the snow came, the nearby trails and roads would be blocked, effectively cutting off the camp from the outside world for several months.   
  
Both Dean and Jo were desperate to go on a raid, but had been forbidden by various parties; Jo by Ellen, and Dean by pretty much everyone else. He was getting sick being told that he wasn't ready, or that he was too valuable to lose and if anything were to happen to him they were all screwed. Deep down, he suspected they were right, but he didn't care. He ranted about the injustice of it all to his brother, but Sam really didn't seem bothered.   
  
Come to think of it, Dean was beginning to worry about Sam. He'd always been quieter than his older brother, but lately he seemed to be becoming more and more withdrawn, often disappearing by himself for hours at a time. Training was hard work, but Sam was looking absolutely exhausted, and Dean wasn't entirely sure if he was eating properly. Still, he didn't want to push his brother, instead hoping that he'd come to him when he was ready, or just work through it on his own.  
  
One night, Sam had just gotten up and disappeared from dinner, leaving Dean staring after him with a concerned expression. After a minute, Dean turned back to the conversation, only to find everyone staring disapprovingly at him.

"Is Sam ok?" asked Charlie, sharing Dean's concern.

"Um..." said Dean. "I think so? I mean... Yeah, I don't really know..."  
  
"Oh my god!" cried Jo, smacking him on the shoulder.  
  
"Ow! What?!" demanded Dean, unsure as to why he was under assault.  
  
"You are useless," explained Charlie. "You're like an emotionally constipated platypus. Sam is clearly not ok. You're his brother, you need to talk to him about whatever it is that's wrong."  
  
Dean grumbled a response under his breath. Sure, he and Sam had never been great at talking about their feelings and that kind of thing, but he didn't think they were that bad. Or maybe they were.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. Probably..."

 

* * *

  
The reason why Sam had been disappearing so often was because he had found the perfect place to practise his magic. It was a secluded platform, higher up and further out than most of the rest of the camp, so that he was unlikely to be disturbed. As an extra precaution he also always took his invisibility cloak, to make sure that he wasn't seen or followed.  
  
He just wished that it was going as well as the fight training was. Bobby's books detailed all manner of spells and enchantments, but he found himself struggling with even the simplest things. He suspected it may have something to do with the fact that he still didn't fully embrace his powers, feeling guilty for practising in secret.   
  
He yawned as he sat swinging his legs over the edge of the platform in the gathering dusk. He hadn't been getting enough sleep, but that was hardly his fault. He'd been having fewer visions while he was awake, something he was grateful for, as collapsing in front of everyone was highly embarrassing. However, almost every night was full of nightmares and prophetic dreams to make up for it. He often saw the things he'd seen that first night in camp, although he now suspected that the strange stones were in fact the dragon eggs. Clearly they were to play a big part. He also found himself seeing more and more of the Dark One, sometimes just mundane things, but other times there was torture, murder and other sadistic things. It sickened him, but not as much as it did when he saw the yellow eyed incarnation of himself doing similar deeds. Missouri had said that he was destined for great things, but great didn't necessarily mean good, and that scared him.  
  
He sighed, wondering for the millionth time what everything was adding up to. Would it ever make sense? Sam tried to push those thoughts out of his head and focus instead on the flames that he'd been absent-mindedly twirling around his fingers. Playing with fire was still his best trick, although it may not have been the cleverest thing to do in the middle of a forest. He was confident he could control it though, unlike most other things in his life.  
  
All of a sudden, the uncomfortable feeling of being watched came over him, and he realised he wasn't as alone as he thought. He snuck a glance over his shoulder, and caught a glimpse of a figure hiding in the shadows around the tree trunk.   
  
"Who's there?" he asked cautiously, scrambling to his feet as he tried to gather up his books and find the invisibility cloak, which had slid from around his shoulders. "What do you want?"  
  
"I'm sorry!" called the unknown person, stepping out of the shadows. "Please don't leave!"  
  
Sam took in the person standing opposite him. It was a girl, about the same age as him, tall, with blue eyes and blonde curls. Sam thought he'd seen her around camp, but he wasn't sure. He thought he would remember someone like her.   
  
"Do I know you?" he asked.  
  
"You've just met me," replied the girl, with a smile. "But I know who you are. You and your brother are a popular topic of conversation round here, Prince Samuel. Besides, you're in my spot."  
  
"It's just Sam," he could feel himself going red. "And I'm sorry. I didn't realise this was your spot. I can leave..."  
  
"I'm kidding. Please stay! My name's Jess by the way."  
  
"Nice to meet you," replied Sam.  
  
The two of them sat down together, legs dangling over the edge of the platform. He didn't understand why, but he felt like he could trust Jess, even though he knew nothing about her. It was just a feeling he had, and he decided to go with it.  
  
"What are you doing all the way up here, anyway?" Sam asked.  
  
"Well," replied Jess. "It's a nice place to come if you want to be alone for a while, to think about things. Or to watch the stars. What about you?"  
  
"I... I'm... Um..." He struggled to think of a way to explain without scaring her off.  
  
"Are you practising your magic?" asked Jess, eyes widening. "I heard about that. Can I see?"  
  
"What?" Sam was a little confused. That was a new one. Nobody had ever sounded so excited about his magic before, let alone asked for a demonstration.  
  
"Will you show me?" Jess asked again.  
  
"Really?!" He felt like he should double check. Jess nodded vigorously, so Sam conjured his purple flames again, and made them dance across his fingertips, before gathering them into his palm, providing enough light for them to see, as the dusk had turned into full darkness, and stars were beginning to appear.  
  
"That's amazing," breathed Jess. "I wish I could do something like that."  
  
"No you don't," Sam snapped, before wincing at how aggressive he sounded. He continued more softly, "Trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be. The people here don't like magic, and they have good reason, so they think I'm dangerous, some kind of freak. They try not to be mean to my face, but I can tell they don't trust me. And I'm terrified that they might be right. That's why I'm hiding up here, trying to get a handle on my powers, in case I hurt anyone."  
  
Jess put a hand on his shoulder. "Please stop talking," she said firmly. "You don't seriously think that everyone here hates you, do you? Because I can tell you for a fact that when people talk about you, that's not what they're saying. I mean, there's people like Gordon, but they're assholes, so don't listen to them. And you'll get the hang of the magic, I know you will. I believe in you, but I think what you really need is a friend."  
  
"Are you volunteering for that position?" Sam smiled fully and properly, for what felt like the first time in long time.   
  
"If you'll have me."  
  
"I think I'd like that."  
  
Jess took his hand in hers, and they sat like that for a while longer, talking and looking up at the sky. It was only when Sam yawned loudly that they realised just how late it was and got up to return to their quarters.   
  
"When can I see you again?" he asked as she turned to go in a different direction.  
  
"Same time and place tomorrow?" She replied, slipping into the shadows and leaving Sam alone in his firelight with a somewhat dazed smile on his face.

 

* * *

  
Over the next couple of days, Dean noticed a drastic change in Sam. He seemed much happier and more relaxed, socialising with people around the camp and starting to make some friends. Dean was relieved; Sam had sorted himself out, and he'd avoided having to have an emotional heart to heart. It wasn't until he was introduced to Jess that he saw the reason for the change. He was happy for his little brother, although remained convinced that Jess was completely out of his league. She was kind and funny, and a fellow orphan, as she put it, having been taken in by the rebels after losing her parents.  
  
Life went on in the camp, as the nights became darker and colder. Jess kept Sam's secret about practising his magic, although she still insisted on watching, never ceasing to be amazed, which was nice as he was actually staring to improve. He'd also managed not to lose control again, and was beginning to get a handle on his nightmares.

 

* * *

  
One morning, their little group was sat around eating breakfast. There was a definite chill in the air, but nobody seemed to mind. Dean, Jo and Benny were laughing together, with Bobby and Ellen looking on in amusement, and Sam and Jess were sitting close, whispering and smiling to each other, when Charlie joined them.  
  
"Dean," she began. "Something's just occurred to me."  
  
"What's up?" he asked, puzzled by her serious tone.  
  
"Well, suppose you manage to defeat the Dark One, reclaim the throne and all that..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"What do you plan to do then?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, do you have any idea at all, what running a kingdom actually entails?"  
  
"Sure I do," said Dean confidently.   
  
"Oh really?" Charlie raised an eyebrow, and Bobby and Ellen wore similar expressions. "Please share with the group."  
  
"Well... It's... Um..." Dean was floundering. "Ok, I don't really know. Sam?"  
  
"I'm guessing law, politics, diplomacy. But, I don't really know anything about those things."   
  
"Dammit Sammy! You're supposed to be the smart one," grumbled Dean, as Sam rolled his eyes.  
  
"Idjits..." muttered Bobby. "You're gonna have to learn these things. You should have been taught em growing up, but that didn't happen, and it's still a gap in your training here."

"It's not like there's anyone to teach it," added Charlie.

"What about you?" asked Sam. "Surely it's similar to running the rebel camp, just on a bigger scale?"

"Yeah, like a thousand times bigger. And with a load of additional complications. Everyone here is here because they want to be, and they understand what that entails. We're also outside the law, and independent of pretty much everything. Running a whole kingdom is not going to be like that, but I suppose showing you guys how to run things like this is better than nothing."  
  
"What about you, Bobby? Don't you know about King stuff?" asked Dean. "You used to be at court. I thought you knew about everything."  
  
"Everything but that. I was a knight, Idjit. I wasn't exactly involved in the day to day running of the kingdom. Fighting is much more my area of expertise. Now get up, you have lot of work to do there too."  
  
Dean got to his feet, and moved to get his armour on and begin training, when he heard a thud behind him. Sam had fallen to the ground, where he lay convulsing. Out of nowhere he was having a vision, one of the worst yet. After a while he became still, and a few minutes later, tried to sit up, attempting to stem the blood that was flowing freely from his nose.  
  
Both Dean and Jess were at his side, helping him up and fussing. Sam tried to brush them off, insisting he was fine.  
  
"No you're not," Dean was firm. "You haven't had a vision in ages, and that was a bad one, one of the worst I've seen. What did you see, anyway?"  
  
Sam was quiet, trying to piece together the details of the vision. After a moment, he spoke.  
  
"There was a man. I've seen him a few times before, more lately, but I have no idea who he is. I'm pretty sure he's going to be important, though. He doesn't look like he's from around here, but he has dark hair and really blue eyes. He's lost, and I think he's hurt, but I'm not sure. I think it looked like he could be near here, so we need to tell the border patrols to look out."  
  
"Is he a friend?" asked Dean.  
  
"I don't know. But the last thing we need is another enemy, so I really hope he'll be on our side."

 

* * *

  
The man turned the next day. Benny was on patrol at the time, and came running into camp, interrupting the brothers' training with Charlie.   
  
"Come quick," he gasped. "We found Sam's guy."  
  
He led Sam, Dean and Charlie out into the trees a little way, stopping further down the stream where a figure lay unconscious, in a heap on the forest floor, his breathing shallow.  
  
He was fairly tall, and wore a long, tan cloak with a deep hood, keeping most of his face hidden in shadow. As Sam had said, he clearly wasn't from Winchester. The style of his clothes was unusual, and strapped to his back were two silver blades, the likes of which none of the assembled rebels had seen before. His clothes had evidently been fine once, but we're now tattered and caked with mud and blood.  
  
They turned the unconscious man onto his back, and Charlie lowered the hood. Sam nodded solemnly, confirming that this was definitely the person he'd been seeing. He looked to be a few years older than Dean, although it was hard to tell. He was very bruised and battered, with a black eye and a large gash across his cheek, and another in his hairline.  
  
Most noticeable of all though, was the silver circlet that he wore across his forehead. It was inlaid with sapphires, and suggested that this stranger who had stumbled upon their camp was probably of noble birth.  
  
"I think," Charlie said after a few minutes of everyone just staring. "He must have collapsed from exhaustion. Who knows how far he's travelled? Or how long he's been here? Help me carry him back to camp. We'll have to see what he has to say for himself when he wakes up."  
As they carried the mystery man back through the forest, there were many unspoken questions. Who exactly was this? Where had he come from? What did he want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope people are enjoying the story so far! Comments are very much appreciated - I'd love to know what you think!


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I'm back! I didn't mean to disappear for months and months without a word, but I had my end of year exams at university and then I was working abroad without access to my laptop, so I couldn't keep updating. I was then settling back into uni life, and after that I have absolutely no good excuses... Sorry!!!  
> All that aside, I am back, and the story is finished, so I'll try and get the rest of it up without too much delay - hopefully at least one new chapter a week, we'll see how it goes. If you like what you've read, feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think! Enjoy!

The stranger slept for three days. At least he and Sam had only been unconscious for a few hours when they arrived, thought Dean snippily. Bobby and Ellen had been taking care of the unknown man, but it was Jo who came tearing across the camp to where their group was eating dinner.  
  
"He's awake," she gasped, trying to catch her breath, as she piled food onto a plate. "It's not for me, it's for him," she said defensively, noticing Dean's raised eyebrow.  
  
"Ok," Charlie was already on her feet. "Sam, Dean, come with me. I'm sure you'll be wanting to see this too."  
  
They made their way up into the trees, and found themselves outside the empty cabin where Sam had been kept all those weeks before. The brothers shared a glance, before making their way inside.   
  
The man was sitting up in the makeshift bed that had been prepared for him, taking sips from a cup of water. He was very thin, but was looking much better than he had when they'd found him in the forest. His wounds had been tended to, and he was dressed in clean clothes as he glared at the assembled crowd.  
  
Jo set down the plate of food in front of him, and he thanked her in a surprisingly deep voice, before consuming the food as if he hadn't eaten for weeks. Looking at him, it was likely that he hadn't. When he was finished he returned to staring at the others in an unnerving fashion.  
  
Eventually Charlie spoke. "Who are you?" she asked warily.  
  
"I am Prince Castiel of the kingdom of Angelus," he replied coldly, reaching over for his circlet, which had been left on the end of the bed, and placing it back on his head. "And who might you be?"  
  
"Charlie Bradbury," her reply was equally cold, giving nothing away about her own position. "Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle have been looking after you, and this is Ellen's daughter Jo, and Sam and Dean."  
  
The brothers were grateful that she had kept their real identities quiet, at least until they knew more about this Castiel.  
  
"Thank you very much for your hospitality. You must have saved my life, for which I am grateful," Castiel's tone was very stiff and formal.  
  
"If you don't mind me saying, Your Highness," Bobby said. "You're an awfully long way from home. Would you mind telling us why?"  
  
He glared at them again, before his hard exterior seemed to soften a little bit. "I was forced to flee my kingdom," he explained, a look of sadness and longing coming over his face. "Angelus has fallen into civil war. I'm the youngest of four brothers, and when my father died, both Michael and Lucifer, the eldest two, thought they should be King. They each had supporters and amassed an army. As far as I know, the war rages on."  
  
"But why did you leave?" asked Dean.  
  
"My other brother, Gabriel, disappeared several months ago. I don't know where he went, or if he's dead or alive. But with him gone, Michael and Lucifer began to pressure me to choose a side. I could sense that things were about to get nasty, and I have no desire to fight my family, so I left. However, on the way, I was attacked by bandits. They took my horse and money, but I didn't dare stop running. I got lost, but I just kept running until I couldn't anymore. And then, I woke up here. Where is here?"  
  
"You're in the rebel camp, in the great forest of Winchester."  
  
"Winchester..." Castiel breathed. "I really am a long way from home. But, the situation here isn't much better than the one I left, is it?"  
  
The rebels shook their heads grimly.  
  
"I'd like to help," he continued. "If you'll let me, I'll stay and join your cause. It's not like I have anywhere else to go."  
  
"Really?" asked Charlie. "And what do you want from us in return?"  
  
"Nothing." He looked at them in earnest. "I'd be happy to stay and help you defeat your Dark One. At least until such time as I can safely return to Angelus. I am a skilled warrior and would gladly aid you in any way I can. Food and lodging would be nice of course, but I'm sure I can make do..."  
  
Charlie and Bobby shared a glance, in silent agreement. "Very well, Prince Castiel," Charlie declared. "Welcome. May I formally introduce their Royal Highnesses Sam and Dean Winchester, heirs to the throne of our kingdom."  
  
Castiel looked at the young men in surprise. "It's an honour," he said in confusion. "Although I didn't realise you were still alive..."  
  
"Most people don't," said Dean with a grin.  
  
"I have a proposal for you, Your Highness," said Bobby. "How would you feel about teaching these idjits a thing or two about being royalty, running a kingdom and the like? It's something that their training has been lacking, but we've been struggling to find a teacher. Until now."

Castiel nodded. "I can see why that would be a problem. Yes, I would be happy to fill that position."  
  
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Sam cut in.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I've read that the royal lines of Angelus have powerful magic. And I was wondering if you..."  
  
"No."  
  
"I... I'm sorry?" Sam was a little bit taken aback by the blunt response.  
  
"My brothers are extremely powerful sorcerers, but unfortunately I lack their talents. My family were very disappointed. I do have heightened senses and reflexes, as well as minimal healing abilities but it's not much to show, I'm afraid... Not like you."  
  
"Wait, you can tell that I have..."  
  
"Yes. You have a great amount of power within you. But there's something else too..." Castiel fixed his gaze on Sam, who stared back, although he felt deeply uncomfortable. "It would seem that you have been tainted by dark magic."  
  
If he said anything else, Sam didn't hear it. Blood was rushing in his ears and he felt like his stomach had dropped to the floor. He was dizzy and couldn't breathe. His worst fear had effectively been confirmed; there was something very wrong with him, something evil and dark. If Castiel could sense it by looking at him, it was clearly a cause for concern. He managed to stutter out an apology, excusing himself and stumbling from the room, before breaking into a run and heading to his usual hiding place.  
  
"What the hell was that?!" Dean snapped at Castiel, who stared after Sam, looking concerned.  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"Why would you say that to him?!"  
  
"I don't..."  
  
"He has enough to deal with as it is, and you tell him he's got some evil dark magic thing going on?! What is wrong with you?!"  
  
"How dare you speak to me that way," Castiel's tone was icy, his face stony. "You should show me some respect."  
  
"Maybe when you've earned it!" Dean stormed out, in pursuit of his brother. Charlie and the others waited a few minutes more, before following, leaving Castiel to rest and regain his strength.

 

* * *

  
Sam sat, trying to breathe deeply and not cry, although tears of hurt and frustration prickled at the corners of his eyes. He had to get a grip; it was pathetic, he thought as he stared into the fire he held in his hand. There was something strangely calming about the flames, even though he knew how dangerous and destructive they could be. He heard Jess come up behind him, and pull away the invisibility cloak.  
  
"We have to stop meeting like this," she said with a small smile. Sam didn't return it, so she continued, "Dean told me what happened. Are you ok?"  
  
"Not really," he replied. Jess didn't say anything else, but settled down in her usual place beside him and took his hand, stroking gently with her thumb. After a while, when he was sure his voice wouldn't break, Sam spoke again.  
  
"There are a lot of people who are worried about me turning dark, myself included, and maybe it's inevitable, especially if I'm tainted or whatever Castiel said. But I don't want to just sit down and accept my fate, I want to be able to choose what I do, what I become. I can't be scared of my future or my destiny or whatever."  
  
"Then don't be," Jess said with a proud smile. "We're here fighting for our freedom, and if you're not free to choose your own path, then what's the point?"

"But, what is my path? Dean's going to be King one day, but where do I fit into it all? They say I'm destined for greatness too, but what the hell does that even mean?!"

"I don't know, Sam. But I do know that you're a good man, no matter what the new guy says. I know that you'll find your place in the world eventually, and I know that I want to be beside you when you do."  
  
Sam turned to smile back at her. He was so lucky to have such a good friend. But, the next thing he knew, her lips were pressed against his and his eyes widened with shock. It wasn't unpleasant though, and he found himself kissing her back, arms wrapped tightly around her. They were slightly breathless when they pulled apart, still gazing into each other's eyes and grinning slightly awkwardly at each other, before leaning in again. Maybe they were a little bit more than good friends.

 

* * *

  
A few days later, Castiel was standing in the ring when Sam and Dean arrived for training. He had been kitted out in rebel armour, although he still managed to look slightly out of place, perhaps due to the stiff and regal way he held himself.  
  
"What are you doing here?"asked Dean coldly.  
  
Castiel raised an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that part of my being allowed to stay was that I helped in teaching you how to be a king. Also, I wished to train myself. I'm a little out of practice."  
  
Dean didn't really have a good response, so he stuck out his lip petulantly and turned away.  
  
"Sam," continued Castiel. "I apologise for what happened between us the other day. That may not have been the most appropriate thing to say. My people skills are rusty, not that they were anything remarkable to begin with."  
  
"Don't worry about it," said Sam, still refusing to meet his eyes. "It's fine."  
  
"Ok," said Charlie, trying to diffuse the tension as she strode over with a smile on her face. "You two," she pointed at Sam and Dean. "Get sparring over there. Castiel, let's see what you've got. We have a few volunteers who want to fight you."  
  
She gestured across the ring to where Gordon and several of his lackeys stood waiting. Dean winced, as he ducked a punch from Sam. He was too distracted for sparring, and gave his brother a look telling him to back off. He wanted to watch what was going on. As much as he disliked Castiel, Dean wouldn't wish Gordon Walker on anybody. The man was ruthless, calculating and had a particular vendetta against anyone different, Sam in particular. Now it looked like the Prince of Angelus was in his line of fire too.   
  
"Begin," called Charlie.  
  
Gordon drew his sword as Castiel drew his silver blades. They were almost too short to be called swords, but at the same time not quite knives. The opponents circled each other for a few moments before Gordon made the first move. He was good, but Castiel was better, and his fighting style was like nothing that had ever been seen before in Winchester. He was surprisingly light on his feet, constantly turning, and avoiding every move of Gordon's blade. He leapt and whirled, expertly handling his two blades, slashing and thrusting, managing to sneak in blows in seemingly impossible places.   
  
However, just as he managed to force Gordon onto his knees, the tide was abruptly turned. Gordon's little group of minions all drew swords as well, and began closing in on Castiel, knocking his blades out of his hands. Charlie cried out in protest, as five against one could hardly be called a fair fight, but they wouldn't listen to her. She scrambled to find a weapon of her own to join the fray or break it up, but she needn't have worried.  
  
Castiel moved unbelievably fast, not seeming to tire at all, managing to evade every swing of a blade, and yet also managing to incapacitate every man he was up against, using his fists and feet, even turning their own weapons against them. As they lay groaning in a heap on the ground, Charlie began to applaud slowly and Sam, Dean and everyone else in the vicinity joined in.  
  
"Holy shit," she said, with a nervous laugh. "That was insanely awesome. You have to teach me how to fight like that."  
  
"It would be a pleasure," Castiel replied, although his tone remained deadpan. "However it has taken me years to master these techniques, and my magic does give me a certain advantage, so I doubt you will find it easy."  
  
"I don't care; it was cool," Charlie was excited. "And you have to come on the next raid. You're probably one of the best fighters we have."  
  
"What?!" Dean and Jo both shrieked from nearby. She had come to see the fight as soon as she heard what was going on. "That's so unfair," Jo muttered to Dean. "The guy's been here five minutes and he's already the best warrior we've ever had and he's allowed to go off on raids and..."  
  
"And we're still stuck here," finished Dean. "Just cos he's some high and mighty prince from a far away kingdom..."  
  
"Suck it up, idjits!" Bobby had appeared behind them, and interrupted their ranting by cuffing them across the back of the head. "Get back to work, or you'll never get to go out raiding."  
  
"What the hell was that?!" Charlie had turned to speak to the men Castiel had beaten, and she was furious. They were still trying to pick themselves up off the ground.   
  
"Good question," spat Gordon. "How could he possibly beat off five guys without a weapon? Is he some kind of freak like Sammy over there?"  
  
Dean saw his brother tense up beside him, and saw smoke curling from between his fingers. Fortunately, Bobby intervened before anything bad could happen. "Shut the hell up," he hissed in Gordon's ear, his hand going to the sword at his waist. Gordon kindly obliged.  
  
"I'm not going to embarrass you any further now by screaming at you," Charlie said coolly. "But you're confined to camp for the foreseeable future. I'm not trusting you in battle if you're going to senselessly attack and insult your own people."  
  
Bobby lowered his blade, allowing Gordon to lean in close to Charlie. "You know," he growled. "Not everyone around here voted for you to be in charge. You should watch your back."   
  
With that, he turned on his heel and stalked away, eyes narrowed, his men scurrying after him. Sam and Dean shared a worried glance; a pissed off Gordon Walker was bad news for everyone. He was vindictive, and they'd have to pay for it sooner or later.  
  
"Ok..." Charlie tried to regain some composure, but she was visibly shaken. "Castiel, why don't you take Sam and Dean and make a start on those lessons you agreed to give them?"  
  
He nodded stiffly before walking away, leaving Sam and Dean confused as to whether or not they should follow. In the end they did, following him back to the former holding cell, which for some reason he had now claimed as his room, and settling down on the cushions which had been added to make the space more comfortable, and fitting of somebody of Castiel's status.  
  
"So..." He began. "I'm supposed to teach you how to be rulers. How much do you already know about such matters."

"Not a lot," said Sam.

"I'd go with nothing," added Dean. "We've been living on a farm for eighteen years."

"I see..." muttered Castiel. "Your unusual circumstances were mentioned to me. I should tell you now that my knowledge is not all-encompassing, as I was never intended to take the throne, but I suppose it is better than nothing. I shall endeavour to do my best."  
  
The brothers nodded, having agreed on the way over to give Castiel a second chance. The man then proceeded to launch into a lecture on the lineage of kings, sacred duties and various other things. Dean tried to pay attention, but it was getting warm in the little room and Castiel's voice was droning on and on, and he felt himself beginning to drift. Sam's elbow in his ribs what felt like a few seconds later suggested that he'd actually nodded off. Although, one look at his brother's face told Dean that he wasn't finding it much more interesting.  
  
Eventually Castiel noticed the Winchesters' glazed expressions, and stopped talking. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'm boring you."

"What? No..." tried Sam.

"Thank you for trying to spare my feelings, but I did hear your brother snoring. I'll try to do better, make things more interesting for you, next time, if you would like to try again?"  
  
"Sure, Cas," Dean managed a small smile. He was struggling to hate the guy as much as he wanted to, even if he was still a little bit jealous; there was something slightly endearing about his social awkwardness, and he was trying to help them.   
  
"Cas?"  
  
"Castiel is just a bit of a mouthful, that's all," Dean said defensively.   
  
"Nobody's ever called me that before... I like it."  
  
From that moment onwards, they began to take tentative steps towards friendship. They would have a lesson with Castiel every afternoon after physical training, with him educating Sam and Dean in areas such as law, diplomacy and etiquette. Dean still found the lessons a little boring, although much better than the first one, but he grudgingly accepted that they were a necessity.  
  
As the weeks want on, they found that the conversation would wander off topic more and more easily. One wet and wintery afternoon, they found themselves comparing their respective upbringings and exchanging childhood memories.  
  
"So," grinned Dean. "If Sammy and I had grown up in a castle with servants, learning all this stuff from birth, how different do you suppose we'd have turned out? Do you think we'd be more like you, Cas? Sticks up our butts?"  
  
"Wow, that's weird to think about..." Said Sam, half to himself.  
  
"While I'm not entirely sure what you meant by that comment, Dean," mused Cas. "It's hard to say. I feel that the court here in Winchester was very different to the one in which I was raised. And there are so many different factors that play into who we are. It's quite a fascinating debate, but I'm afraid we must leave it there for today. I have to prepare for tonight's raid. It's one of the last ones before the snow comes."  
  
He noticed the sudden slump in Dean's shoulders and his downcast expression, as did Sam, although the younger boy just rolled his eyes.  
  
"Raiding isn't all you seem to think it is Dean," Cas began.  
  
"That's what everyone keeps telling me," snapped Dean in response. "But I want to get out there and do something! I'm tired of hiding here. I'm ready, I know I am!"  
  
Castiel sighed deeply. "If you would like, I can speak with Charlie and Bobby and try and persuade them to let you come on the next mission."  
  
"Really?" Dean perked up instantly.  
  
"I can't promise anything, but if it means that much to you I will try."  
  
"Thank you so much Cas, you're awesome!" gushed Dean.  
  
"Sam?" asked Castiel. "Would you also be interested in coming on a raid?"  
  
Sam had been lost in his own thoughts and was surprised to be asked. "Um... Thanks, but no thanks," he eventually said. "I'm good."


End file.
